Chicano Poet

Friday, September 03, 2010

Pura Leche

Isidra had been
in her quarters

when the attack
on the lab occurred.

She called Rey
on his aluristo.

No answer.
She called a friend

on the Council.
They told her

Rey was ok,
but that Beatriz

and Mariano
had been killed.

She felt so bad,
yet so happy

that Rey was alive, and she was
overwhelmed by guilty pleasure.

Octavio Paws
was purring at her feet.

She gave him
a bowl of milk.

Why can’t Mexicans
have nine lives
, Isidra cried.

She turned the bra cups
to the front.

She wanted to go
to the cafeteria,

and look outside,
but of course

the titanium shutters
had been rolled down.

Hell, it’s the same old
angry red planet,

she said out loud
as she bent over

to pet Octavio Paws,
who was embroiled

in his own labyrinth
of milk mustaches.


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